’ Gerald controlled a quivering lip. She twisted her fingers tightly. “You’re a biologist, aren’t you?” He began to talk of his own impressions of biology as a commonplace magazine reader who had to get what he could from the monthly reviews, and was glad to meet with any information from nearer the fountainhead. Clientèle was of the most transitory character. His fingers closed upon her hand. “Now step aside, I have some business to attend to. Groping their way through one or two dark and mouldy-smelling vaults, the party ascended a flight of steps, which brought them to the hall. They joined the rabble of aspiring James Deans in torn jeans and bomber jackets and girls with Clairol black hair smoking clove cigarettes. I suppose I ought to have been a man.
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